We were, as always, running
down to the spring lake,
splashing in the clear water
and watching the drops
as if they were mirror glass
ready to tell us our fortunes.
You said you saw a figure
in blue
gliding across vast plains
on a hand-held sail
of cloth and wood.
You said you wished
you were that free.
I asked you how you were sure
that the figure was free.
If they were to see you
through a droplet of mirror-glass
splashing around as you do
would they not think
you were free, too?
Even though you claim you aren’t.
You had no answer,
but to turn to another
and try to see something there.
Treeshallow Musings 